The Capitol Games
by Ruvehkka
Summary: Nina Snow should be President. Instead, Coin has declared her insane and taken power. The final Hunger Games is announced and Nina is Reaped. Will Nina get home, or are the odds against her this time? AU sequel to The Victors & The Princess. Read that 1st
1. Chapter 1

**The Capitol Games :Prologue**

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**The war is over. Nina Snow **_**should **_**be President of Panem. But Alma Coin has declared Nina unstable, and taken the Presidency for herself. And so it was decreed that in penance for all who perished from the Districts, the Capitol would, in punishment, surrender seventy-six young men and women, thirty-eight of each gender, to participate in a final, symbolic Hunger Games. Among the Capitol Tributes is Nina herself, Reaped for being Snow's granddaughter. With a young daughter and her true love waiting for her on the other side of the arena, Nina can't afford to die. But with seventy-five other Tributes to face… will the odds be in Nina's favour?**

_Hello again! Neve here with an AU sequel to The Victors and The Princess. This one has the possibility of obliterating the happy ending Haymitch and Nina deserve. So, go ahead, please read, review, and submit a Tribute name!_

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My name is Nina Snow. I am eighteen years old. My daughter is nearly two. I should be President of Panem. Alma Coin told the world I resigned my campaign because I was emotionally unfit. That is a lie. But I went along with it because she'll kill my daughter and Haymitch otherwise. Haymitch. The only one who still has faith in me, aside from a handful of our fellow rebels. Like Katniss. And Peeta. And Johanna. And let's not forget Annie. I live in a small house in the Capitol with my daughter and Haymitch. Finally I am free from the hospital where Coin kept me a prisoner.

My grandfather was Coriolanus Snow. The ex-President of Panem.

xXxXx

I am in the house, alone with only my toddler for company, when it is announced. Coin comes on screen and I immediately want to hurt her. She had no right to take Panem! She has turned the nation into a communist place, combined with a military base. All the changes I would have made have been ignored. Poverty and starvation are still problems. The nation is still divided.

"_You're the Phoenix, Nina. You will rise from the ashes one day," _Haymitch tells me occasionally.

I never believe him.

I've never been wholly sane since I saw the father of my child decapitated before my eyes.

I stop _that _line of thought right in its tracks, because the only place that train leads is straight to Drugged-Up-Ville.

I pay attention to Coin's speech instead.

"It has been decreed that in penance for the years of fallen Tributes, the Capitol shall surrender thirty eight young men and thirty eight young women to participate in the final Hunger Games. These seventy-six Tributes will be reaped from the relatives of those who held such great power during the oppression." Coin says, and I'm hanging on her every word.

I know what's coming then. I am President Snow's granddaughter. He held the most power throughout the oppression. Never mind that I have a two-year-old daughter to care for and a man who loves me more than life itself. I am Nina Snow, I am eighteen years old, and it has been decreed that in penance, I must die.

Alma Coin has just signed my death sentence.

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	2. Chapter 2

**The Capitol Games ch 2**

_Ooh, look! An update! (review). _

_Neve_

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I must have blacked out, because I dream that I'm kissing Finnick.

That's how I know it's a dream. Because Finnick is dead. And unless I'm dead too, there is no way I can be kissing Finnick. Dream-Finnick holds me in his arms, kisses me in that entirely familiar way. Then… the kiss changes, the lips against mine are unfamiliar, and I pull away, confused.

My eyes snap open so I can stare in confusion at Finnick. Only… it's not Finnick anymore. It's a Capitol boy I've never met, and before I can say anything, he's grinning menacingly at me, and there's a jolt of white-hot pain. I look down and see a trident in my stomach. I look up, shocked, and see that Finnick has returned. He's shaking his head sadly, catches me as I slump and succumb to the blackness.

"_FINNICK!" _I wake up screaming his name. But he's not there. Neither is Haymitch. My two-year-old daughter, Rue, is leaning over me, her black eyes wide with concern, her bronze curls tickling my face as she peers at me worriedly.

"Mama? You ok?" Rue speaks in disjointed English, because she hasn't quite got the hang of full sentences just yet.

I blink, flinching in the early afternoon sun. "Sure, sweetie," I say, sitting up. How'd I end up flat on my back?

"You went pale, went sleep," says Rue.

Oh. That's how.

xXxXx

When Haymitch comes home, I try and keep a straight face. I don't want him to know that I know. Not yet. Rue runs over to him on her chubby toddler legs, reaching out her arms, balling and unballing her tiny fists. She wants a hug. Haymitch obliges, reaching down, lifting Rue into his arms and hugging her.

"Papa!" Rue exclaims delightedly. I'm still amazed at her forwards vocabulary.

"Want down now," Rue says in her disjointed English. Haymitch sets her down and peers at me.

"Is mama okay?" Haymitch asks Rue, who shakes her head. That's a cheap shot, trying to work out my mental state by asking Rue.

"Nope. Mama saw President on tee-vee and she say mama gotta go to the ree-nah." Rue says proudly. I'm amazed that she can say 'President', but still finds 'arena' a struggle. Then again, it's not a word she's heard before. Any talk of Hunger Games and arenas is done in private, when Rue is asleep and Haymitch is close to relapsing into his old alcoholism.

He's looking at me now, expression concerned. Perhaps I zoned out again. That happens sometimes. I'm almost as crazy as Annie now. Haymitch stands and crosses the room to me. I manage a very weak smile.

"Should have seen this coming," I manage to choke out.

Haymitch shakes his head. "None of us saw this coming. We all assumed, because you were a Rebel, a pilot, a soldier, that she'd cut you some slack," Haymitch says.

I start to shake and if I'm not careful I'll blank out completely. Haymitch enfolds me in his arms, and I start to cry, silent, fearful tears as he holds me close, his strong arms trying to shield me from the outside world.

What will await me in the arena? Will it be an icy wasteland filled with polar bear mutts? Or a scorching desert hell with scorpions the size of cars? Either way, I'm dead.

"She'll rig it," I tell Haymitch, who blinks at me, bemused.

"Coin," I prompt, "She'll rig it so I die."

The look that crosses his face tells me that Haymitch has already considered this possibility.

"We – Plutarch and I – are doing everything we can. You may find the arena easier to navigate once we're done," Haymitch says in response. I frown, confused. How can Haymitch and Plutarch save me? Sure, Plutarch is Head Game Maker, but… surely Coin will prevent any rigging in my favour.

I am Nina Snow, just another piece in their games.

xXxXx

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